


Preparing for the Winter Palace

by thethinkingfruit



Series: The Tale of Inquisitor Demenli Adaar [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Budding Love, Fashion & Couture, Gen, Team Bonding, Team as Family, The Winter Palace (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 16:16:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9769994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thethinkingfruit/pseuds/thethinkingfruit
Summary: Josephine tries to get the inner circle ready for the Winter Palace. She never realized how difficult it would be to keep everyone on task, or that Inquisitor Adaar was curious about Orlesian fashion.





	

          “Dresses are absolutely out of the question,” Cassandra scoffed, gazing about the room. She could barely see anything past the multitude of frilly skirts, jeweled bodices, and lacy underthings that had been unpacked from crates and rolls of cloth to ensure their safe passage to Skyhold with a look of horror. “It’s impractical.”

          “I might have to agree with Cassandra,” Leliana replied, though there was a tone of longing in her voice. A hand reached out and gently ran itself down the skirt of one sky-blue gown that lay flush against the bed. “Realistically, it would be impossible to change in and out so quickly.”

          “Don’t be absurd, darling,” replied Vivienne. She took a moment, sneered delicately, and set the dress she had been holding down, giving it her own personal veto. “All it would take to move from outfit to armor is practice, which is never too difficult. Pass me that doublet, dear,” she said to an assistant, who bowed and did as she asked. “Back again is even easier.”

          “Yes, that is true—but the Inquisitor isn’t one who has that sort of practice. She is new to the Game, after all.”

          “It’s best that we are well dressed for the Winter Palace. To show up in something out of style would harm the Inquisition’s image, so we have to pick something fashionable.”

          “Lookit all this stuff!” Sera cried, laughing as she dug through one of the boxes and pulled out a yellow, plaid weave gown that had gaudy green sequins trailing its waistline. She held it up to her chest and struck a pose, sticking out her tongue. “Do I look good, or do I look good?”

          “Madame, please, those are expensive—” pleaded the poor tailor, owner of most of the merchandise. He whimpered when Sera cackles, dropped the dress, and searched through the boxes to find one even more absurd than the last.

          Josephine just sighed, crossing crate number eleven off of the list as possible outfits. It was more tedious than anyone realized, especially when most of the men had checked out. In the corner, Cullen was snoring against the stone wall. Blackwall had become extremely engrossed in what looked like a fabric catalog to stay out of the decision making process and Varric was, discreetly as possible, writing down notes for one of his ever-elaborate stories. Dorian and the Iron Bull had snuck off, Cole had vanished, and Solas had not even bothered to show up in the first place.

          “Well, then on to crate twelve,” Josephine sighed, only to be drown out by everyone else. It was hard to keep the inquisition rallied in the face of fashion, it seemed. She waved her hand, looking at the list, trying not to yawn. “Someone get it open. It will be the last one for the night. Inquisitor, would you do the honors?” She waited to hear the familiar crack of nails giving way, but heard none. “Inquisitor?”

          “Hm?”

          Josephine turned towards the corner of the room where a few mirrors sat, and blinked, taken aback by what she saw. To see the Inquisitor staring at her reflection, positively enamored by the gown she held, was an odd sight. Demenli Adaar, by no means, had ever shown liking for frivolous things. She often dressed practically, and preferred something comfortable over something pompous. Even now, she was dressed in comfortable, worn-out trousers and only a simple top, but she was positively glowing as she held a dress just up by the straps in front of her.

          While the rest of the remaining inner council proceeded to spiral in discussion and mayhem over wardrobe, Josephine stepped over several discarded garments to join her. The Inquisitor towered next to her, and the dress she held would have easily drown Josephine if she tried to wear it. Blacks and greens mingled together, with little beads and gold trim that shimmered in the flickering firelight.

          “You seem lost in thought, Inquisitor,” said Josephine. “Is everything all right? We still have one more crate to go through.”

          “Oh.” Demenli managed to tear her eyes away from the gown for a moment. Instinctively, her fingers tightened their grasp on the sleeves. “All right.” She fell silent, and made no move to go open the crate. She continued to stare at the dress, before she sighed, and regret ably set it down.

          “I never pictured you to like Orlesian fashion, Inquisitor,” Josephine said, leading her to the correct box. Demenli shrugged, pushing some white strands of hair from her face as she took a large letter opener, and began to slowly pry off the lid.

          “Me neither. But the colors were pretty, weren’t they?” Demenli replied, popping the lid off within seconds. She wrinkled her nose at the contents inside. “I’ve been to Orlais a few times, and got to see fancy dresses, but never wear them. I don’t suppose we can wear fancy dresses to the Winter Palace?”

          “I’m afraid not, Inquisitor. We need to find something more practical.” Josephine peered into the box. “And I can already tell that this won’t do. Inquisitor could you…” She paused, looked around, and found herself alone. “Inquisitor?”

          Demenli stood in front of the mirror again, with the dress. She turned it slightly, imagining what it would look like. Josephine, after a moment, made her decision. She flagged down the tailor, who was trying to seize a dress from Sera’s excitable grasp.

          “How much for the green one?” Josephine asked. The tailor, relieved, finally won his tug-of-war game. 

          “You’ve made your decision, then?” he asked, raising his voice at the controlled bickering from Leliana, Cassandra, and Vivienne, on whether dresses were practical forms of apparel during an attempt to stop an assassination.  

          Josephine looked over her shoulder again and frowned as Demenli hugged the dress to her chest, and then set it down with a look of longing. She shook her head. “No, no, we still need to find good outfits for the entire Inquisition, but–the green one. Add it to our tab.”

          The tailor, weary from dealing with the Inquisition, sighed. “Right. I’ll wrap it up for you right away.”

          “Thank you, ser.”

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from tumblr, where you can see the image to accompany it [here!](http://thethinkingfruit.tumblr.com/post/152598802030/sometimes-demenli-just-wants-to-wear-a-dress) This is focusing on Demenli Adaar, my main inquisitor.


End file.
